


Work With Anything

by galaxbee



Series: Little Dragon Age Fics [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Depression, Let's be realistic here, Mental Health Issues, There's no way the Inquisitor would get through that without some mental issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 12:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxbee/pseuds/galaxbee





	Work With Anything

He meandered upstairs, still slightly smiling from his conversation with Sera, but tense all the same. The difficulty sleeping that had plagued him since his trip into the Fade was starting to take its toll, tugging at muscles and weighing down limbs. Cole was there, as he always seemed to be, and Lavellan adjusted one of the boxes before he sat down, resting his head in his hands.

“Hello, Cole,” he said by way of greeting, rubbing at his eyes to remove some of the sluggishness.

“So many fragments, faces. Difficult to sleep since the Fade, highlighting the differences. Everyone wants something from me, a version of me, a variation. It's hard to keep track with so little sleep,” Cole murmured, bringing the thoughts that had been plaguing the young elf into the spoken word. An option to discuss them opened, and he accepted.

“That seems to sum it up quite well,” he said, “Have you got anything for me?”

“They haven't noticed. They like you for you, as a person rather than an Inquisitor. They’re happy that you talk to them, even if you're sometimes distracted. But they're worried when you don't say much,” Cole said, both easing and inflaming Lavellan’s fears and anxieties. So they had noticed, he hadn't meant for them to notice. He was meant to be fine, he couldn't afford to be so-

“No, no, that didn't work,” Cole said, growing distressed. A pang of guilt shot through him - it was his fault that Cole was so upset, why couldn't he have just ignored it, he needed to stop feeling so sorry for himself and actually be useful-

Cole disappeared, and Lavellan took the long way back to his quarters. No need to worry anyone else.

* * *

“We are running an intervention,” Cassandra's accented voice informed him as he read. Josephine had acquired some texts on flora in the areas that he was planning on visiting, and he would need to collect some more herbs for the Inquisition’s supplies.

“An intervention? Why?” he said, pausing in his study. He looked up to see the former seeker leaning against the wall, with The Iron Bull and Cole accompanying her.

“Cole has informed us of… certain issues you're having,” she said, “and we believe that it would be in your best interest to allow us to help.”

“I don't need help,” he said, confused. He didn't need help, he just needed to stop bothering people and complaining so much. There wasn't any real problem, aside from the fact that he'd obviously done something to bother his friends. “I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but I'm fine.”

The Iron Bull gave a laugh, throwing his head back. “Oh, I remember this,” he said, slightly amused for a reason unknown to Lavellan. “Hate to break it to you, boss, but you seem pretty depressed to me. I wouldn't worry about it - we can work with this.”

“I don't think… what do you mean, depressed?” He echoed the term, and it sounded hollow and painful in the large room.

“A shroud of darkness and fatigue, worry and pain. I'm sorry, I'll be fine, I just need to stop being so useless, bothering everyone,” Cole spoke the thoughts from Lavellan's mind, and they seemed bitter and empty. The phrases seemed to cling to his chest uncomfortably, filling up the edges of his lungs.

“Sounds like depression to me, boss,” The Iron Bull confirmed, the words serious despite the honorific that Lavellan was sure was at least partly a joke.

“Inquisitor, we are your friends,” Cassandra said, seeming uncomfortable with Cole's statements (another piece of guilt to cling to the pile, it was so ridiculous and stupid, why was he so dumb). “We do not like to see you so unhappy.”

“But I'm fine,” he protested, even as the words clung to his tongue, filling his mouth with the taste of ashes.

“No, you're not,” The Iron Bull commented flippantly, his face seeming less bright despite the relative easiness of the phrasing.

“But you will be,” said Cole, purely and simply as only he could. “We’ll help you.”

Cassandra nodded in agreement and The Iron Bull gave a short dip of his horns in similar confirmation.

A rush of emotion surged through Lavellan's chest, momentarily dislodging the dark pit that had seemed to form there. His throat became choked, and he bit the inside of his lip. “Thank you,” he said after a moment, “Thank you so much.”

“Save your thanks for when we have improved,” Cassandra said, a small smile quirking her lips (Lavellan didn't miss the plural), “Either that, or promise us that we will not have to go to anywhere with sand in the next few weeks.”

“I agree,” Cole said, and Lavellan laughed, remembering his frustration at the amount of sand that had built up in his shoes when they had been there last.

“I, Inquisitor Lavellan, hereby swear that we will not step foot in any deserts between now and when we next step foot in a desert,” he stated, placing a hand on his chest in false regality.

“That doesn't quite cut it, boss,” The Iron Bull said, an eyebrow raised.

“I'll go if I can wear taller boots,” Cassandra allowed, and Cole nodded in agreement, the brim of his hat flapping.

“Of course.” Lavellan grinned. The Iron Bull may be correct, and he may not be entirely fine, but at least he had support. He could work with this. They could work with this.


End file.
